Will You Be The One That Saves Me?
by apenforaprincess
Summary: CaptainSwan AU: What Emma doesn't know won't hurt her. What will, is being alone for the rest of her forevers. They've tried her at speed dating - what a disaster. A match making service told them she was an impossible match. What is left besides a devine intervention?... Internet dating, of course! With an awesome photo and a perfectly executed profile, what could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: All characters and Once Upon A Time are property of ABC and the show's creators.

-CS-

Satisfied with their handy work, Ruby and Mary Margaret smiled at one another, clinked their half-empty wine glasses and closed the laptop. What Emma didn't know wouldn't hurt her. What would hurt her was spending the rest of her life alone, running from the one thing she would not admit she needed most - Love. Over the past ten years, the two had watched her thwart every attempt at even the slightest hint of romance they had tossed at her; blind dates, chance meetings, speed dating... she'd flustered the match maker they had hired so badly, the aging woman had declared that "this one would just have to be alone forever; she's impossible." But they had one last trick up their sleeve... eSoulMate, the most talked about Internet dating site they could find - if this didn't work, they had resigned themselves to giving in, giving up and allowing Emma to win. It was their last ditch effort at finding their best friend's one true love.

Their efforts had started earlier in the day after Emma had left for work. Unbeknownst to her, her two friends had been snapping off candid photos of her on their phones for weeks and texting profile ideas for just as long. When Victor and David had found out about their plan they had both been hesitant, expressing their concerns over what would happen if a certain blonde attracted the eye of an online suitor. They knew her just as well as their partners and feared her anger would rip apart their long time friendships, or quite literally their partners, if Emma were to actually find out. Yet after much discussion on the matter, and some very persuasive measures on the parts of Rudy and Mary Margaret, they had been convinced that a simple listing on a website filled with thousands of people really couldn't be all that harmful. The two men still had their doubts, but arguing with two determined women was a hopeless cause.

In the end, what was the worst that could happen?... Emma find happiness?

-CS-

He was tired - exhausted really, if he had to admit it. His week had been dragging from bad to worse. Every wrong turn seemed to lead to two more. If it could go wrong, it pretty much had and right now, leaning back into the plush cushions of his sofa, he was more than ready for it to just be over with. One more day, he reminded himself, just one more bloody day.

Flipping open the laptop that had begun to permanently take up residence on his coffee table, Killian clicked on his inbox and sighed as the messages poured in. He scanned them absently noting that everything he saw could wait until the morning... Everything except one that had particularly caught his eye. Smiling back at him from the inbox's preview pane was a radiant woman - her head slightly bowed, lips turned up into a dazzling smile, long blonde tresses tossed careless over her shoulders and riveting greens eyes that, truth be told, made his body tingle and ping. According to the subject line, she was his latest match on eSoulMate; the very same site he had reminded himself that morning to cancel his subscription to due to its utter lack of finding him anything but a soul mate during the six months he had been a member.

Clicking open the email, he began to scan the snippets of her profile expertly provided in order to entice him to visit the page. LostAndLonging appeared to be thirty years of age, have a professional level career and also reside in the Boston area. Pretty generic from what he could tell but something about her eyes made him want to know more... her eyes and her headline - "Will You Be The One That Saves Me...?"

Sighing inwardly, he bit the bait and clicked the link that would carry him to her profile. He resisted the urge to flip through her photos first; her eyes had already captivated and sucked him in to browsing, what he really desired was more substance, more insight. Skimming through he found that Emma, as it stated her name was, actually was quiet an intriguing minx of a woman. Her answers to the hideously intrusive amount of questions the site asked were pleasant and passionate and even a bit humorous at times. The remainder of her photos were just as the first; some color, some black and white, but all more of an intimate peek into her private moments instead of a myriad of self portraits and roughly cropped past photos as the other women on the site seemed to favor. She was a witty one, this Emma... the brilliant blonde with the emerald eyes. Without a thought he clicked open a new message window and began to type.

-CS-

Mary Margaret was practically dancing around the kitchen counter with excitement; hardly content to wait for Ruby to drag herself out of bed, let alone pace around until Emma made her way out the door and on her way to her office. There was an email in the account they had created for Emma's online dating profile... An email from a very handsome, dark haired, blue eyed man with the pen of EvryGrlLuvsAnIrishman. If she could have exploded where she stood, she'd probably be in a million pieces right now, and waiting to read the email was simply the most painful torture imaginable. Emma sensed something was going on when she breezed into the kitchen to grab her regular morning cup of cocoa with cinnamon before running off to work. Her longtime friend had unceremoniously (... and a bit nervously) slammed down the screen of her laptop and smiled, wide-eyed and innocently, at her.

"Emma! Good morning!" She was like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She knew Emma recognized it but Mary Margaret worked diligently to cover it up.

Emma groaned as she stirred her cocoa. "How on earth can you be so chipper at this time of the morning?" She took a tentative sip from her travel mug, testing the temperature of the thick, hot liquid. "You're like Mary-freakin-Poppins."

Mary Margaret shrugged, "I just love mornings, I guess. It's fresh and innocent and clean - completely untouched, just like... A new romance?" She dropped a hint she knew her friend would never pick up on. For as brilliant as Emma Swan was, she could be a bit dense.

Emma rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "See you tonight..."

"Friday night dinner and a movie!... It's a tradition!" Mary Margaret was big on traditions, especially when it came to her two friends. They had done dinner and a movie every Friday night - without fail - for nearly twenty years.

_Two couples and me_, Emma thought... _Oh joy_.

"Have a great day, Emma!" ... One down and one to go. Time to wake up Ruby.

It took nearly thirty minutes to rouse the third roommate from her sleep. Mary Margaret tried to be nice at first, but when she received no response she was forced to get more persistent. Once Ruby was finally seated next to her at the kitchen island, sipping on a strong cup of hot black coffee, Mary Margaret flipped open the laptop, clicked a few times and pulled up the email from Mister Beautiful Eyes (as she had begun to call him).

"Should I read it aloud or do we just want to read it together?"

Ruby glared at her. It was far too early for her upbeat little questions. "You should probably just read it. I doubt I'm awake enough to process complex thoughts yet." She had worked a double the night before. Ruby loved the tips she made when she worked the bar at County Kerry, but she hated the late hours.

Taking a deep breath, Mary Margaret clicked on the email... "Okay, here we go! Our first step towards finding Emma a soul mate!" She began to read in hushed tones. Ruby shot her an inquisitive glance but chose not to interrupt.

_To the woman who stole my soul with her eyes..._

_First, I must admit that I am not nearly half as charming over these bloody, blasted things as I am I person. Now with that card clearly on the table, let's give it a try, shall we?_

_I couldn't resist reaching out to a woman who claims she enjoys the finest drink of the Gods... Otherwise known as scotch. A rare and precious treasure indeed. _

_Know I must ask, for I am genuinely intrigued... To what do the citizens of Boston owe their pleasure in having you grace us with your presence? It's certainly not New York City by any stretch of the imagination, but we do have some finer eating establishments, a nice assortment of Pubs and some charming history. I've heard a few decent sporting groups as well, though I have yet to see for myself._

_I must re-confess that I am far from an expert in online introductions; fact of the matter I feel like a bloody fool. I prefer the opportunity to court a lass when I know for certain she is a lass - in the flesh and breathing. At the insistence of my mates, I signed up for this flip, however you have been the only lass to catch my attention in nearly six months time. _

_I suppose I've said enough. If I sparked even the slightest bit of interest in you, darling, please pay a man some praise and at least give me a nod in return. _

_All my best..._

_Killian_

_As a side: Should you ever find yourself at Liam's, I fancy the side of the bar closest to the window... Cheers!_

Mary Margaret squealed... Rudy smiled. When they clicked to actually view his profile, they both admittedly swooned. He was a handsome specimen of man - dark messy hair, piercing blue eyes, what appeared to be a permanent five o'clock shadow and a smile that dared a woman to kiss it clear off of his face. Not to mention, he had given them a hint as to how they could locate him. And that gave the ladies an idea. Friday night dinner and a movie was about to become Friday night at the pub. Besides, the thing about traditions was that eventually, they had to be broken.

As if reading one another's thoughts, Ruby and Mary Margaret began pecking away at the laptop's keyboard feverishly. Tonight, LostAndLonging was going to chance a meeting with EvryGrlLuvsAnIrishman. But not before '_she_' could pop off at least one response.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: First, I am super sorry for the delay... work has plunged me into chaos and I have not had a spare minute to write! This is a short little chapter but it at least gets its moving again. I promise we will have another one to follow very soon because it's time to get these two moving! As always... feedback, reviews and ideas are welcomed and lived with open arms! 3**

**_ CS _**

_Good Morning Mr. Beautiful Eyes!_

_Since you so eloquently made your confession, I too must make my own... I am not actually the woman in the profile or the pictures. I am actually a 'we' and we are Emma's oldest friends and roommates, Mary Margaret and Ruby. Our dear Emma actually does not even know that we have placed her on this site. We understand how horrible that sounds - and we sincerely hope that you do not think us to be awful people, but you must understand... We LOVE our Emma. She is the glue that holds us all together. She's our voice of reason. Our fixer. Our backbone... our lie detector... our cheerleader. But, she's also our fifth wheel - and please don't take that the wrong way, we know how horrible it sounds. Let us explain…_

_Our Emma has a huge, caring, warm – guarded - heart. She has built so many walls around it (for good reasons, according to her) that we are fairly certain the builders of ancient China would have been jealous with the effectiveness of their construction. For the past ten years, neither one of us can recall a single second date she's willingly had._

_Crap. Now we've scared you away. Crap. Crap. Crap._

_Well, in case you are still here, we'd like to meet you... We mean we'd like you to meet her. Emma. The girl with the soul snatching eyes. ;) But if we happen to chance upon you at Liam's this evening, say at about eight o'clockish... Could you keep our secret? Could you find our Emma?_

_With high hopes..._

_Mary Margaret and Ruby_

_PS: We love her. She's our family. Please don't think badly of us - we just want to see her happy. We've seen it before. We miss it. We just want someone to give her back her pieces and help her put them together again. Could that be you?_

His blue eyes sparkled with laughter as he scanned through Emma's response... Or more accurately, the response her apparent friends and roommates had crafted on her behalf. They were quite a pair, this Mary Margaret and Ruby... Killian could easily imagine the chirpy banter that would ensue with those two near by. He could also levee a bet that some of the information they had shared with him regarding the woman that stole his soul with her eyes would cause that same woman to either blush profusely or tie herself into fits of anger. Her friends appeared to have no shame as evidenced in their endless rambling, but who was he to judge... His own mates had corned him into joining the bloody site.

Stealing one last moment before diving back into work, his mouse clicked '_reply_' and his fingers tapped out a quick response.

_My Darling Chirping Birds,_

_I am intrigued by your proposition. Should I be available this evening, and not tied down with my work, I will certainly be in my usual spot. Far side of the bar top, closest to the windows. I have the distinct feeling that I would not be able to miss nor ignore your jovial group, even if I tried._

_All my best,_

_Killian_

_As a side note... I will ensure I bring the glue in case I spot a crack that needs repair. _

He clicked send. It was done. Killian had potentially sealed his fate with one Emma Swan. However, the thought of starting something under false pretenses sat heavy in the pit of his stomach. His career may be one that calls for cutthroat and cold but he had always strove for something better for his personal life, though that so called personal life had been rather empty as of late.

-CS-

Emma pushed back from her desk and stretched. The day had been dragging along at a snails pace and she was more than ready to get home, change into her yoga pants and t-shirt, and curl up lovingly with a piece of pizza and her favorite throw pillow. Certainly she had plenty to keep her busy there at her desk, but at that very moment there was not a single thing about family law that she found interesting – not even the latest case file her managing partner's assistant had so haphazardly plopped on her desk corner earlier in that morning.

It was nearly four in the afternoon and diving into a new case was not the thing to do. If she started working through it now she would feel obligated to get _all _the way through it. She'd feel obligated to take notes. She'd feel obligated to leave her office in the wee hours of the morning or – even worse – bring the damn thing home with her and spread it out across the dining room table for a weekend's worth of work. _I will not work this weekend_, Emma reminded herself. _I will not work this weekend_.

She fidgeted for a bit, trying to find something to occupy her time before giving in and heading home. Just as she was about to shut down her computer for the night, her email dinged, a notification popping up on the bottom corner of her screen informing her that Mary Margaret Blanchard had sent her a new email with the subject of "Change of Plans". _Great_, _I'm not getting my sweats and pizza, am I?_

Sighing, she clicked on the notification window, effectively bringing up the email from her every chipper Mary Poppins.

From: Mary Margaret Blanchard

Sent: Friday, July 25, 2014 3:57 PM

To: Emma Swan

Subject: Change of Plans

Dearest Emma,

We have a long-standing tradition of dinner and movies every Friday night, but Ruby and I have been, well, inspired today. We'd like to spice up our regular routine… After all, twenty years of the same is twenty years enough, don't you think? We do. J

Meet us at that little pub around the corner, Liam's, after work? We've heard they have great food and live music on Friday nights… How exciting!

Please don't be angry. It'll be fun to try something new.

- MM

"Well, there goes sweats and throw pillows," Emma mumbled as her mood started to plummet. Maybe she had grumbled a bit about dinner and movie Fridays – okay, maybe a little more than a bit - or a lot more than a bit. But that didn't mean she didn't enjoy _their_ Friday nights together. Their tradition had started as children when Mary Margaret and Ruby had befriended the lonely little lost girl – a victim of a cruel, cold foster system – and brought her quickly into their circle of friendship. After many chats between the girl's families and Emma's foster parents, the girls had been permitted Friday night sleepovers at the Blanchard or Lucas households. Emma cherished these nights as they were the only times she actually felt what it was like to have a real family, a real life. The tradition had carried with them for the past twenty years, and though she would never openly admit it, Emma was deeply sentimental about them.

Opening a response pane, Emma clipped out a quick reply.

From: Emma Swan

Sent: Friday, July 25, 2014 4:02 PM

To: Mary Margaret Blanchard

Subject: Re: Change of Plans

MM –

Run. Shower. Change clothes.

Be at Liam's when I finish.

Don't wait for me.

- Emma

Clicking send, she sighed openly and wondered why exactly she was so irritated about a little change in her regularly scheduled Friday night plans. She continued to ponder on the topic as set out for a run nearly fifteen minutes later. And when she arrived home, showered and dressed, Emma still didn't have an answer for herself – at least not one she was willing to admit. _It's called change… and you are so not ready to face it._

__ CS __

**Are you ready, shippers?... Let's go introduce a Irishman to a Lost Girl :) If you have thoughts on how ****_you'd_**** like to see it play out, let me know! 3**


	3. Chapter 3

Liam's is one of those places where you actually feel like you're alive. It's full of characters; a throwback to the days when the great and the good would mix in the pub, shoulder to shoulder with everyone else. You could easily imagine Alec Guinness walking in at any minute, or Steve McQueen the very next. It still feels like the Soho of the 50's paired with the rowdy old days of old world Dublin. It's a pub for people who understand the culture that goes with drinking. At Liam's, gazing out the window is never classed as doing nothing... It simply sums up its appeal. It's the perfect place to while away an afternoon or wash away the week.

You never know who you'll find in there. You're as likely to see the entire brass section of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra running across the road for a swift pint as you are a room full of drunken retired policemen. Or a handful of conceptual artists arguing passionately about literally nothing, as you are the Gay Classic Car Society, the Massachusetts Historical Society, a handful of Street performers or some very drunk musicians. It boasts 250 kinds of whisky, a very well-kept cellar and, blissfully, no jukebox. The staff are warm and friendly and not in a production-line way, in fact they all appear to be friends with the regulars (who are easily recognizBle as the majority of the patrons). Maureen, who runs the place, is a sharp-witted, elegant and glamorous Northern Ireland angel, the kind Dylan Thomas would find a whole book in. It's a change nothing, lovely old pub.

The creamy globes of the old world lighting hanging from the rafters above cast a soft glow on the giant room while chatter of the patrons fills it with life. A small little band in the corner plucks away while the thick lilt of their singer wraps the room in the joys and sorrows of the old world tunes. From a large high top u-shaped corner booth, tucked neatly into the back of the pub, Mary Margaret and Ruby could see just about everyone and everything going on within its polished mahogany paneled walls. The laughter and smiles, the tense discussions... Even the busty red headed waitress who continued to 'absently' brush herself against the older male patrons she assumed could support her expensive tastes. Truth was, their focus wasn't really on anything but the door as they sat in wait, coiled like tensioned springs, for one dark haired blue eyed Irishman and one lovely blonde with serious commitment issues.

As if willing it to happen, the heavy wooden Victorian door to the pub swung open, allowing entrance for one Emma Swan. She breezed in, surveyed the room and immediately spotted her gaggle of friends in the booth at the rear. Picking her way through the crowded room garnered her with an assortment of compliments and cat calls - all of which she chose to ignore. Though her smile was light hearted, her mood was a bit obtuse... She'd really rather be curled up on her sofa with piece of pizza right now.

"Emma!... Hi!... You made it!" Mary Margaret climbed down from the elevated booth seat to give her friend a hug. From the widening of her pupils and the rush of her speech, Emma was certain she was already close to her limit on the alcohol. Light weight that she was, David would surely be nursing his beloved's hang over the next morning. Luckily, she would have a full weekend to recover.

Squeezing her long time friend and roommate into a quick hug, Emma regarded the others at the table with a pleasantness she really had to work at. She truly had no desire to be anywhere but home tonight, but for her friends - and her refusal to break their tradition of Friday nights together - she had dressed up (well, her version of dressed up) and plastered on her best grin. _Just relax, will you Swan? Give it a chance._

Hopping up onto the high stool next to Victor, Emma surveyed the drinks spread out across the table. "Just how long have you four been here? From the looks of it, I'd guess... All day?" There were half drained bottles and still chilled stout glasses, low-balls still swishy with melting ice and empty shout glasses.

Victor laughed hardily as he wrapped a well toned arm around his girlfriend's roommate. "You'd be amazed at how much a few people can consume in the course of a two hour wait." He winked at her, squeezing her shoulder before letting go.

"Better start in on getting caught up, Ems... It won't be half as fun if you're the only sober one here!" Ruby's words were already starting to slur from what Emma guessed was the on-slot of too much liquor and not enough food.

Emma scowled, she needed a drink. And the whole lot of them needed some food. Slipping down off her stool, Emma addressed the table, "I'll be right back. You four drunkards stay put." David's wild hoot of laughter at her not-really-funny comment brought a genuine smile to her face. So rare an occasion was it that she saw her friends in this manner - relaxed, carefree and giddy from the effects of good company, great atmosphere and too much booze.

She turned from the group and headed towards the bar at the front of the room instead of flagging down one of the waitresses who were obviously overwhelmed with the busy bustle of the pub's crowd. Again, she ignored the compliments and cat calls (assumably from the same old drunks) as she pushed her way through the throng and angled herself into a small wedge of space at the bar top, signaling for the attention of one of the bartenders. After a few moments, she was greeted by a white haired older gentleman with a thick Northern Irish accent and bulbous red nose. He was a jolly soul with hazel laughing eyes who expertly took her order, poured her drink and relayed her food wishes to the runner.

"Wait here lass, I'll start your tab."

Emma nodded, handed the man her credit card and leaned a bit heavier into the sturdy white marble bar top. It was cool and smooth and nerve calming. Glancing around, she took in the little details of the pub. It was really warm and cozy and very personal. It was well loved and cared for. It was friendly and she liked it._ Okay, maybe tonight wouldn't be terrible_.

-CS-

Killian glanced down at his classic yet understated Rolex; it was nearly half past eight and he suspected that, just like every other Friday night, his favorite pub was already into a full swing of high spirited debauchery. As he pulled open the heavy wooden door, laughter tumbled out onto the sidewalk and filled the still night air with mirth. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the stresses of his week slowly eased and slipped away. The mergers and semi-hostile take-overs would all still be there in the morning, tonight was for letting go and opening up to the possibilities of fresh starts.

Stepping into Liam's was like coming home. Not because he had a propensity towards liquid of the alcoholic persuasion, but for the way the familiarity of the setting and the patrons wrapped around him like an intangible hug. He felt as though his sweet beloved Ireland was still just outside the door, on the other side of the big lead glass windows. He nodded a friendly hello to some of the regulars as he allowed his bright blue eyes to survey the room in search of either one soul snatching blonde or her chirping birds brood of friends, the latter of which he found first. As he raised his arm to wave, the petite pixie-haired brunette of the group stood on the foot rung of the booth and waved her arms wildly, signaling towards the bar and a small space just to his right occupied by what he was now assuming was his soul snatching blonde. He again nodded - though this time, in their direction - and turned to admire the women who had brought him here for the evening (though she was entirely unaware of her involvement).

She was average in height and lithe of build; well-worn skinny jeans hugged delectably over the curve of her hips and rear before encasing her powerful legs and dipping into the tops of her neutral heeled riding boots. The wide neckline of her tastefully oversized scarlet sweater fell easily off her shoulder revealing smooth creamy skin and the tantalizing curve of her neck. A long column of soft golden waves mirrored her spine in a race down her back as her restless, elegant fingers strummed absently at the marble bar top. Even from his current viewpoint, Killian was convinced that his LostAndLonging was even more beautiful in person the any of her photos could ever truly capture. She had a presence to her, though he suspected she was not even minorly aware of it. In short - she was stunning, and hadn't even chanced a gaze upon her face yet.

_Now or never, Jones. Now or never._ He moved forward from where he stood near the bar, coming up dangerously close behind her. Killian knew he could play the situation two ways - passive or slightly aggressive. One would likely foster her maternal instincts and possibly bring him pity. But the other - oh the other - if played properly, could have devastating effects on his heart and his wallet. He hadn't even had the opportunity to say hello yet already in his mind he was lavishing this goddess of golden hair with her every whim and desire. At the last minute he decided to chance it and moved effortlessly into her space, placing his hands against the bartop next to hers and rather effectively trapping her there within the circle of his body.

Emma had been oblivious to his presence until the warmth of his body began to radiate up her torso and down her limbs. She stiffened and turned her head slightly to get a better look at her space invader. Her breath hitched and settled deep in her chest. _Oh. My. God. _


	4. Chapter 4

**I am sooooo sorry this has taken so long! My work and personal life have gotten in between me and my stories... Please forgive! I will make it up to each and every one of you, I promise! This is just a short bridge chapter but the next will be longer and is already in process. I need this one to get me from here to there. :) As always... Let me know what you think! **

Piercing blue eyes seared into hers making her twitch with discomfort. Panic began to sizzle just below the surface of her skin. His eyes were unmoving and unfamiliar yet there was a sparkle in them... A hint of laughter?_ What the hell?_ Finally breaking her gaze with his, Emma's eyes travelled down the innately masculine features of his face and landed smack dab on a pair of upturned lips, a small chuckle of humor escaping them. He was close. Too close. The heat from his proximity was beginning to warm her and from the looks of his face, she could only imagine that his body would be just as beautiful. She released a gasp wholly outside her own control and watched as his smile grew deeper, revealing a full set of beautiful white teeth. She shivered involuntarily. Her body was betraying her mind. This ridiculously bold man was invading her space and all she could do was stare and sigh. _What the hell is wrong with you, Emma?_

He spoke as he pushed away from the bar and drew himself upright, his sweet Irish lilt dripping from every word. "My apologies, lass. I thought you were someone I once knew."

"I guess you thought wrong." She had intended for her tone to be icy and short, but once again her body betrayed her and her voice came out in a breathy uncharacteristic whisper.

He smiled again and extended his hand. "Killian Jones."

Two simple words. Two simple, beautiful, thickly accented words. Killian Jones. She stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap herself around the strange way she was reacting to this man; this man she had never seen before a day in her life. This beautiful stranger. Emma didn't do strangers. In fact she didn't do anyone, she was a very private and guarded person and she liked it that way. Yet in the single course of a minute this man had effected her with a string of contradictions. Her guard told her to push past and run to the comfort of what she knew - her friends. Her soul told her to stay put, talk to him and wait it out. This craziness was entirely new to her. Over the past ten years, Emma hadn't felt a single feeling as far as a man was concerned besides caution and panic; the exception being her friends and a few choice co-workers. How had this man...? She had been standing there silent too long. His hand was still extended, his smile humorous and his eyebrow raised questioningly.

Quickly, she shoved back the questions and did her best to re-erect her walls. Her hand was slightly shaking as she extended it and met his grasp. "Emma Swan." Her smile was slight and a bit forced, finally regaining some control.

He nodded pleasantly in response and after a brief squeeze, he released her hand. She withdrew it quickly, as if she had just been scorched with a hot iron. _Crap. What is this man doing to me? _She had to get away from him... Now.

Shifting to her right, Emma begin to move forward, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Jones, I have some friends waiting."

"Aye lass, I hope you have a lovely evening, however..." He paused for a moment, motioning towards the bar top now behind her, "you may want your order."

Whirling around she noticed the order for her table placed neatly atop the marble bar top waiting for her retrieval; the ruddy old jolly bartender smiling sweetly at her. "Need a hand, dear?"

Before Emma could answer, the voice of one alarmingly handsome Irishman raised from behind her, "No need, Fergus, I'll assist our lovely Miss Swan."

Emma spun around quickly to face him once again, this time her face spelled out her clear frustration. She just wanted to walk away from this man, so why was he making it so hard? "Really, Mr. Jones, I will be quiet okay on my own." She raised a hand in protest to his forward ministrations towards her order. " I paid my way through law school as a waitress, so I'm pretty sure I can handle these few plates."

Completely ignoring her objection, Killian leaned past her to grab two of the four plates from the bar top. As he retreated, his chest brushed against her arm sending fizzling little charges across her skin. Snatching her arm quickly across her body, Emma drew in a quick breath of uncertainty. _Had he felt it too?_ Chancing a glance up, their eyes locked and small smirk graced his lips, assuring her that he too had felt the tingle. Unwilling to give the moment purchase, she shifted her gaze from his and turned back to the bar top to snatch up the remainder of the order and her drink. Careful not to touch him as she passed, a nod of her head motioned the location of her friends in the pubs back corner. Had she trusted her voice she may have spoken, but at the moment all Emma knew was that she needed to put some distance between herself and Mr. Killian Jones. Unfortunately for her, the crowd and the relatively short distance from the bar to the table would not be nearly enough.


End file.
